Page 72 of Fake it for Keeps

22

HALLIE

“Stop fidgeting,” April said, swatting my hand away from the zipper on my dress. “You look amazing.”

I dropped my hand and stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress Frankie had sent over was understated elegance, a deep navy sheath that hit just above the knee, with three-quarter sleeves and a neckline that was business appropriate but still showed I had a figure. It was something you would wear to a nice dinner, or I supposed church. A daytime wedding.

I didn’t know how the clothes Frankie picked out did it, but they shaved off a good two sizes from my normal figure. Or maybe it was the way they fit. They flattered my curves. Highlighted them and made me feel very womanly. Very Laurenwood.

I needed to hire Frankie to dress me full time. The thought made me stop and chuckle to myself. Now I was thinking like Colt Jesson’s fiancée, ready to hire staff for simple tasks like getting dressed.

But even that wasn’t enough to give me a huge dose of confidence. I needed a dump truck full of self-esteem to feel as good as I looked.

“Do I look nervous?” I asked.

“Yes, because you are nervous,” Hallie pointed out from where she sat on my bed, painting her toenails a violent shade of purple. “You’ve been fidgeting for the last hour.”

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“You’re definitely fidgeting,” April confirmed. She came up behind me and started fixing my hair, pulling a few strands loose to frame my face. “What’s got you so worked up? You’ve spent time with Colt. It’s nothing new.”

“I think there’s something I don’t know about him,” I said quietly. “Something important.”

Hallie looked up from her toenails. “Like he’s in witness protection?”

“Well, no not that. But there’s something.” I turned away from the mirror. “The way he reacted when I mentioned the drunk driving fundraiser, it was like I touched a nerve. A big one. And touching a nerve on Colt can be dangerous. He’s fine one minute and then he’s suddenly a different man. I guess I’m a little worried he’s going to be Colt the Dick tonight and not Colt the Decent Guy.”

“Maybe he lost someone to a drunk driver,” April suggested, still working on my hair. “It’s not uncommon. Thousands of people are killed every year.”

“I know.” I sat down on the bed, careful not to wrinkle my dress. “I just hadn’t thought about it that way. That maybe there’s a reason behind some of his choices. Behind some of his walls.”

“Hallie,” Hallie said gently, capping her nail polish. “Are you starting to care about him?”

The question hung in the air.

Was I?

I thought about bringing him lunch. About the way his face had lit up when he’d laughed. About how I’d felt when he’d apologized for being a dick. About the way my chest had tightened when he’d said nobody had ever brought him lunch before.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe. A little.”

“Babe.” April came around to face me, her expression concerned. “You can’t forget what he did to you.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” I stood up and grabbed my clutch. “But that was a long time ago. Maybe he’s different now. Maybe there’s more to him than I thought.”

“Or maybe,” Hallie said carefully, “he’s just good at making you think that. He’s a billionaire playboy, Hallie. Charm is probably his superpower. Be careful. Tigers don’t change their stripes. Remember, he’s paying you to be nice to him. That tells you everything you need to know.”

She had a point. A good one.

“You’re right,” I sighed.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Colt: Downstairs. Ready?

“That’s my cue,” I said, slipping on my heels. “Wish me luck, ladies.”

“You don’t need luck,” April said. “You need a clear head and a good exit strategy.”